Faith sinking DamonxAlaric (oneshot)
by TheMouseyWriter
Summary: Damon and Alaric have always been the most unlikely pair of friends, but when Alaric dies, Damon is left without a helpful shoulder to cry on and Alaric is stuck with a friend in need on the other side of the veil. (Side note) This fanfic is not a traditional characterxcharacter. It's just a very heartfelt moment between two best friends.
This fan fiction is meant to be set at the end of episode 2 of season 4, Memorial, where Damon is about to leave from talking to Alaric, who is listening quietly from the other side. (Alternate ending) Hope you enjoy!

"I miss you too, buddy." Alaric muttered just as his best friend was about to leave his gravestone again. Leave **him** again. He put his head down in lost hope for the situation that now enveloped Damon.

"But, you know what?" Damon stepped back just enough to be audible to Alaric. "We are at war." He said, punctuating each word with a certain indignation.

Thinking for a moment, he walked back and thrusted himself down into his previous spot next to Alaric.

Alaric raised his head and stared at his friend in wonder and confusion.

"At war with peace. With each other. At war with our feelings. Our non-feelings. With damn nature." He spared a glance toward his daylight ring. "At war with this." He gestured to the space around himself.

"At war with what, Damon? Life?" Alaric asked, more to himself, than Damon.

"Death." He said pathetically, almost as if to answer Alaric.

"I'm at war, especially. I mean, man. I can talk to you. And I can sure as hell- well, sure as the other side- hope that you're listening. But I don't know." He admitted weakly. "I really don't. You are my best friend, Alaric. As terrible and rotten and evil as I've been, and as much as I don't even want to admit it. As much as you wouldn't dare admit it, we had each other. We backed each other up, no matter how hard it was for you to like me. And now look at us. Unable to hear, see, or touch. Not that I'd want to touch." This made Alaric laugh to himself, although the effect of what Damon was saying had already sunken in. "But if we wanted to, we can't. Not even. Because it was taken from us. We lost that war by losing you."

"But it hasn't defeated us. We're both still here, Damon. One way or another." Alaric contested optimistically.

"So you see, buddy, life in general sucks. Now, that being said, here's an idea." Damon said ominously jaunty, and adjusted himself to sit on the edge of his seat. "If I went down, and I mean seriously down, I'd meet you there, right?" Alaric gaped at Damon's implication.

"No, you won't! You're going to stay there like I can't. You're going to stay there and take care of everyone else."

"No one would miss this old guy. And I'm not exactly the best at helping out here, am I?" He waited, as though he'd be able to perceive an answer from the ghost of his friend.

"Er, but I- you're not the worst-" Damon cut Alaric off.

"I didn't think so." He sprung forward and grabbed a thick, pointed, branch of a nearby tree. "So you stay there, alright? Who knows where I'll turn up." Ripping the branch from the tree, he poised it at the center of his chest. As quickly as he could, Alaric dashed to his desperate friend. He swung and shoved at Damon, and then the branch, only to witness his hands traveling right through both.

"This is gonna sting." In a moment of frustration, at the exact second Damon reared up to peirce himself, Alaric pushed at the stick with all of his might. He pushed it. Right out of Damon's hand. Both, completely shocked, could find no words.

"What the hell?" They asked in unison. Damon looked over to the stick, which was now a long three feet behind him, while Alaric kept his eyes, angrily, on his friend. Alaric only felt hostility on the surface. He couldn't believe that Damon would be so stupid.

"Well, at least I know you're listening." Damon half-joked, looking directly at Alaric. What hostility there was on Alaric's surface digressed to angry confusion.

"Hang on, can you see me?" He tried, somewhat expecting Damon to continue on and maybe walk right through him.

"No, but I can hear you. Or feel you. Well... Feel your presence and hear you." Damon told him confusedly. Alaric's jaw dropped as he shuffled towards Damon. "Woah, woah, woah. I can feel you moving. Please don't hit me." Alaric was overwhelmed with emotion, good and bad. He rubbed his face, close to tears.

"Are you really that stupid?" He could only muster. "After all this time, do you still not get that your actions have consequences?" He spoke loudly, barely able to contain the tears now threatening to spill over his cheeks.

"Come on, man. Let's face it. They don't need me. Not anymore. They needed you. But now you're gone. At least in death, I'd be incapable of doing any of them harm, ever again." Damon felt every single emotion that was somehow passing from Alaric, over the veil, to him. His big eyes wetted, also threatening to overfill.

"Uh. Yeah, but you'd be dead. You'd be stuck here with me. Incapable of doing them harm, but also very incapable of anything else. I'm dead. I know how it works. I've watched you all suffer from behind the curtains. I hate it, Damon. You have no idea how hard it is to sit here and watch you do stupid things and make bad decisions and not ever be able to lift a finger to help." Unable to contain the now, unleashed waterfall, Alaric became consumed by his overwhelming disappointment and loneliness. "You. Are. Lucky, man. You get a chance! You get a chance to see them making the wrong choices and fix it. The same way Elena tries to fix you and everyone around us. The same way I have to fix you when you step out. So fix it, Damon. Fix it and don't ever think for one second that they don't need you. You needed me, no matter how much we disagreed. You needed me then and I'm still trying to help you." He spoke in incredulity. "You bastard. I would punch you in your pretty little face if I actually could." Alaric shook his head, both him and Damon able to find humor in his last few words.

"Man," Damon was cut off by an oncoming sob. "I love Elena. With all my heart. And I love my brother. Almost as much... But they don't-"

"Jesus, Damon, are you going deaf? They need you. They'll always need you. Remember? You're Mr. Bad guy, the one that gets stuff done. Did you forget as soon as I died? Honestly, tell me. Because I seem to still be stuck on the old Damon. The Damon I knew. The Damon that would never quit because things didn't go his way the first time. The Damon that would've thrown a temper tantrum when it didn't go his way, but the Damon who would risk anything to see to it that Elena was okay. You can't do that from my side of the show."

"Alright. I get it, Ric."

"I don't think you do, Damon. This is life and death. So you didn't get the girl? So what? Go eat a little blonde cheerleader and get over it the morning after. You still care about her. Death won't stop the pain. Nothing does."

"Ric!" Damon silenced Alaric, a single tear escaping his eye. Alaric shifted his weight and looked at Damon with consideration. "I get it, alright? I get it."

"Good." It took Alaric a few moments to speak. Just as Damon was about to tell Alaric one last thing, he felt the connection between the pair of them loosen and fade.

"Ric?" He nearly panicked.

"Yeah, buddy?" Alaric answered with urgency, although Damon could no longer hear him. Damon smiled sadly and picked up his long since forgotten bottle of whisky.

"Looks like our little anonymously funded play session is over." He said. Alaric silently nodded, crossing his arms. There were worse things he could've said to Damon in a mysterious melding of their two spirits. "Thanks. For pep talking me out of my worst case scenario." With that, Damon took one last look in Alaric's general direction and walked away for the second time that night. Alaric sighed and whispered the only thing Damon swore he could here after the fact.

" ** _Just doing my job_**."


End file.
